


it would be a scandal

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Fingerfucking, Future Fic, POV Phil Coulson, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Undercover, skoulsonfest2k16redux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7617205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy and Coulson go undercover at a party and they take the spirit of cooperation a little too far.</p><p>Written for the Skoulson RomFest 2k16 Redux - Day 2: undercover</p>
            </blockquote>





	it would be a scandal

Mad scientists are the latest trend.

Evil organizations like Hydra have fallen out of favor. Concerned private citizens are in.

“When I said I was willing to work with the ATCU this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Daisy says, adjusting the strap of her dress for a fifth time in ten minutes, like she is not comfortable in her undercover persona. The ATCU pays.

“Me neither,” Coulson agrees, sipping from his glass. “They don’t have anyone who can crack this guy’s security system.”

Daisy smiles a genuine smile, not an undercover-party smile. Coulson feels a bit proud. He’s still trying to navigate how to interact with her, after her absence. He guesses it’s the same for her. But she seems to be more advanced, like he has fallen behind - on her own Daisy seems to have only grown bolder, more fearless.

“Then thanks for inviting me to Douchebag Party, Agent Coulson,” she says and Coulson makes a mock curtsy.

She picks a couple of glasses of champagne for them, hiding her tired polite smirk behind the rim.

This is a personal mission for her, Coulson understands.

Mad scientists are the latest trend, especially those who promise the government to weaponize what they know of Inhuman dna, and who promised fearful parents to develop a vaccine in case their children were born with the fateful gene. The first promise was plausible, the second was thankfully still far from possible, but in the meantime this particular mad scientist was developing meds that could do a lot of harm to the Inhuman population.

“He’s not short on investors,” Daisy comments grimly, gesturing around them.

“Yeah.”

He tries not to think about that, the popularity of his proposal to get rid of the Inhuman menace.

Everybody is pretty focused on trying to network anyway, so they aren’t scrutinizing Coulson’s and Daisy’s covers too hard. As long as they keep close and laugh at each other’s jokes a couple times. Shouldn’t be too hard. _Douchebag Party_ is exactly the kind of place where no one would think twice about seeing someone like Daisy on the arm of someone like him, Coulson thinks, a bit uncomfortably.

He takes a moment to look at Daisy as she scans the room, all her old SHIELD skills still perfectly honed. She is wearing a dark red dress that looks expensive and her hair is shorter than the last time they saw each other, a couple of weeks ago. She is wearing more makeup than usual but still, she looks very unmistakably Daisy Johnson.

“I can’t believe no one recognizes you,” Coulson says, something about it pissing him off, even though it’s definitely ideal for the mission. “Your face is plasted all over the city.”

“Crappy security footage,” Daisy says. “They wouldn’t know it’s me.”

“ _I_ knew it was you,” he points out.

“Because you wanted it to be me,” she replies, casually.

 

+

 

“So this is why you wanted me on this op?” she comments, voice teasing, and Coulson slides his hand up her thigh. “Some undercover fun?”

He makes a noise, moving between her legs.

It took her very little (advantages of his prosthetic) to lift her by the hips and set her on the mahogany desk of their target. He had just heard a noise. A classic, solid cover every security guard in the world would buy - well, they would buy it as soon as they took a look at Daisy.

Then Coulson felt not desire to move from between Daisy’s legs, to put some distance between them. He has had enough of distance. Eight fucking months of it. So here they are, still like this, and for some reason he is still touching her leg, dropping his fingers down the inside of her thigh.

“I asked you to help on this op because I needed a hacker,” he tells her, so very close to her mouth.

“I’m sure SHIELD, or the ATCU, or whoever you _officially_ work for these days, has plenty of hackers,” she points out.

He shakes his head solemnly. The champagne has given him a nice buzz, the kind that keeps you clear-eyed but dulls the edges a bit but not so much that he can’t notice how nice Daisy’s naked skin feels against his.

“I told you. None as good as you,” he repeats. “There’s no one as good as you…”

Daisy gives him a touched look, the smooth undercover persona slipping for a moment.

His knuckles touch the fabric of her red dress. He smiles, because the dress feels cheaper than it _looks_ but you’d only know it if you were to touch Daisy. 

“Are you drunk?” she asks, tilting her head.

“No, I don’t think so,” Coulson replies. “Not more than you.”

Daisy replies by hooking her right leg around the back of his knee, pulling him imperceptibly closer.

Her skin feels really warm under his touch. He didn’t think… he never thought about touching Daisy like this.

He starts drawing circles on her skin with his thumb, almost distractedly, like tugged in by some strange undertow between them. He then looks down, mesmerized by the image of his hand disappearing under the hem of Daisy’s red dress, his arm pressed against the inside of her thigh. He looks at it like it’s somebody else’s arm, and definitely not Daisy’s leg.

“Coulson?”

“Yeah?” he says, hardly able to lift his gaze to meet Daisy’s eyes.

“Let’s not overthink it,” she says. “I do that all the time. It really doesn’t pay.”

Coulson nods, not sure what she means by that, but he is also in no hurry to take his hand off her thigh. Daisy gives him a last push, sliding down the desk a bit until Coulson can feel the fabric of her underwear against his knuckles.

“Anyone might come in,” he warns her, or maybe he’s trying to talk himself out of this.

“Douchebag Party,” Daisy replies. “This,” she gestures between them, “is way easier to explain than this…”

She holds up the flash drive in her hand, then closes her fingers tightly around it and holds on to Coulson’s shoulder, taking a deep breath that serves as his clue. Coulson nods in agreement, fighting the urge to look down when he pushes her underwear aside and pushes the first finger inside her, but prefers to see Daisy’s eyes, and her mouth, the way she presses her lips together hard to keep the moans trapped in the back of her throat.

He uses his thumb to stroke her clit and that makes her roll her hips against his touch. He’s shamelessly chasing the feeling of hearing her make pleased noises. Shameless is a good word. What a scandal, Coulson vaguely thinks, an ATCU agent fucking the infamous Quake in a stranger’s house.

He pushes a second, easily, she is so wet, and makes Daisy gasp a noiseless gasp, moving her free hand to pull at Coulson’s hair and pressing her forehead against his shoulder for a moment so that she’s curled between his arms and Coulson can smell the perfume (smells expensive, it’s probably not) she picked for their undercover mission.

“Daisy…”

She lifts her head, her cheeks flushed. “What?”

“You were right,” he tells her. “I recognized you because I wanted it to be you.”

He kisses her.

He has two fingers inside her but kissing her feels a lot more intimate to him. Then again he’s always been hopeless at this.

 

+

 

They review the contents of the flash drive while sitting together in the back of the black van the ATCU didn’t know Coulson took from the garage.

“You’ve got everything you need?” Daisy asks him, leaning over to take a look.

She still smells like… like what happened between them in the target’s office. Coulson tries not to think about that.

“I think so,” he says and they both look at the screen. “This proves that the ATCU knew about this guy’s experiment, and they looked the other way.”

“But you’re ATCU,” Daisy tells him.

“I’m SHIELD.”

“What was the difference these days, again?” she comments. Then her mouth twists in a guilty grimace. “Sorry about that.”

Coulson shakes his head. “No, you’re right,” he tells her. “And I should be the one sorry about that.”

They stare at each other for a moment, Daisy looking like she wants to say something else but she drops it at the last minute, shifting on her spot to make herself more comfortable.

“This seems to go pretty far up,” she points out, gesturing at the emails they have recovered. “You’re going to need someone from the outside.”

“I still have some of my contacts,” Coulson says, trying to sound confident. “I’ll expose this, I promise.”

A trusting nod, something he probably hasn’t earned lately.

“Okay then,” Daisy says, closing the laptop. “We have everything we came for.”

Or more than that, even, Coulson adds mentally, trying hard not to think about how he now knows how Daisy looks when she comes. Also trying hard to to think about her face when she comes.

But he can’t stop thinking about that.

“We should talk,” he says, not knowing how to put this but in the vaguest terms possible.

Daisy studies him for a moment, like she is trying to gauge whether that potential conversation will be good or bad. Truth is Coulson has no idea what she considers good or bad in that context. He’s completely in the dark.

Daisy nods. “We will,” she tells him. “I’ll call you.”

He wraps his fingers around her wrist, the first time he’s touched her since they left the target’s office - not even risking touching the small of her back when they walked out of the party.

“You will?” he asks.

Because if she doesn’t contact him then Coulson has no way of finding her - no matter how hard he tries, eight months of chasing have proven that all right. He is completely at her mercy.

But Daisy _is_ merciful, and she smiles at him, kindly, and turns her hand in his grip so that she can lace her fingers with his.

“Of course I’ll call you,” she promises, the way Daisy does, because she always keeps those. Then, her shine a bit, smirking at Coulson. “I have to return the favor. Don’t I?” 

She laughs when Coulson blushes.

That was a good party.


End file.
